


Hornets Revenge

by Zaiya (iqoras)



Category: Speak - Laurie Halse Anderson
Genre: Epilogue, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 03:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13449552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iqoras/pseuds/Zaiya
Summary: Melinda finds her voice.





	Hornets Revenge

Cold, slimy, rain-slicked bodies all packed together in bleachers. Fingers were crossed, hearts were pounding, and no one was paying the slightest attention to the rain pouring down. The rain was washing us, showering down our filth and making us into something better and whole.

        Shoot, score, the Hornets were in the lead. Our sense of identity had finally solidified after we stood up for our mascot and refused to change. At the start of this year, we petitioned the town and fought for solidarity, claiming the Hornets. We refused to change again.  

        Last year we had no identity. We were constantly changing. No one saw us. I’m the same. Last year, I was no one. I was broken and there were icy claws digging underneath my skin, leaving frozen trails of agony that no one but me could see. Not anymore.

        The monster is still there. It’s inside of me. It’s not gone completely; it hasn’t been evicted. But the monster within me is a reformed tenant—once a noisy partier, now a respectable renter. Usually, at least. Sometimes, at night, it will relapse and panic, running through the hallways of my veins and doing its best to escape. Like many trapped animals, it’s violent when it’s afraid, and rips against my ribs and my lips.

        The game is almost over. The Hornets might actually win. We’re going to do it. Everyone stands and stretches their toes, as if they might reach and lend their hands to our team for that extra  _ push _ . I stand, too, and push my fingers out toward them, reaching, reaching, r e a c h i n g. I don’t feel the frost in the air or mind the way the rain has made my hair limp. There is fire inside me, battling the never-ending winter.

        I don’t look defeated. I am proud. My hands are ghosting over the stars, fingertips gripping at something I can’t yet understand. I feel like I’m alive again. I’m not quite whole. I know that. Broken things are never exactly the same, even after being put together again, but I am getting better. 

        Everyone around me cheers and their enthusiasm bursts into the physical world. They bump into each other and scream, hands clenching and unclenching in an attempt to rid themselves of the energy. I can only assume that we’ve won. The Hornets did it. Someone pats my shoulder, hard, and I stumble forward. Instead of letting the force slam me into the ground and bury me like I might have once upon a time, I spring right back up

and I _shout_

and **roar**

and y e l l.

        I am no longer silenced. My voice has entered the world again. 

        I am free. 


End file.
